


Better to Reign Hell Than Serve Heaven

by TenSpencerRiedPlease



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Also I have taken a lot of liberties with Barry's character, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Religious, Angel Oliver, Barry is literally the devil, But there is a lot of questioning religion here, Dark Barry, General inaccuracy, He's still Barry though lol, I wouldn't recommend reading if you are easily offended by religion, Loosely based off elements of Paradise Lost, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Morally Ambiguous Character, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Philosophy, Religious Conflict, Tags May Change, You Have Been Warned, it isn't meant to be totally accurate to anything, sort of, this isn't meant to slam anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:09:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5609839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenSpencerRiedPlease/pseuds/TenSpencerRiedPlease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had been doomed from the start, Barry knew, because he’d never met an angel so willing to sin.</p>
<p>However this was a game he loved to play and if God was willing to send him a broken angel in some misguided attempt to show him what happened when God lost, well. A life of luxury, of freedom, that wasn’t so bad to him, wasn’t so bad to a lot of people really. If God ever thought he’d win the war against the Devil he had lied to himself far more than his Angels. </p>
<p>AU in which Oliver is an angel and Barry is the literal Devil and everyone is very confused. Loosely based off Paradise Lost though not explicitly mentioned at any point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoodSourceofFiber](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodSourceofFiber/gifts).



> Alright so first off as mentioned in the tags this is definitely not meant to insult religion in any way, religion is fine, obviously, but this story does question moral issues around religion a lot. Now that said I have a fair background in religion but not a strong one so if you do end up offended that is likely because I have misconstrued something, not because I actually think any of these things about religion.
> 
> This is based off Christianity, and I'm going to say very loosely, so again this is by no means meant to insult the religion, for all intents and purposes religious text here can be read more as myth than fact or something that people actually worship/ believe if that makes sense? 
> 
> Okay so hopefully you are all sufficiently warned and not upset so I guess I hope you enjoy! Also the title quote is from Paradise Lost, the story's influence.

The Devil is real. And he’s not a little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful. Because he’s a fallen angel, and he used to be God’s favorite.

American Horror Story

He had been doomed from the start, Barry knew, because he’d never met an angel so willing to sin.

However this was a game he loved to play and if God was willing to send him a broken angel in some misguided attempt to show him what happened when God lost, well. A life of luxury, of _freedom_ , that wasn’t so bad to him, wasn’t so bad to a lot of people really. If God ever thought he’d win the war against the Devil he had lied to himself far more than his Angels.

The angel they sent, though, was stunning and Barry wasn’t opposed to looking. Ahh, the luxury of looking, as if it was a sin to acknowledge the beauty God injected into his creations. What a fool. The angel, a tall man with large dark green wings and a pair of threadbare pants, looks uncomfortable. Probably because Hell had a much warmer environment than he was used to, heat was a luxury and Heaven was only as warm as it needed to be. Barry preferred the higher temperature; it was nice against his wings.

Barry smiles wide at the unknown angel, “and who might you be?” he asks in a silky voice that would so easily seduce humans, if he had the inclination to do so. He only made people do what they wanted to, that was hardly _his_ fault. Besides, God did the same thing and no one demonized _him_ for it so Barry hardly felt guilty for his indulgence.

The angel tips his head up, “Oliver,” he says and Barry smiles wider. Knowledge was power, names even more so, and this one had given it up without any resistance at all. _Excellent_.

“Oliver,” he purrs, “what might your presence here mean for me?” he asks.

Oliver shifts and Barry notes every move because everything Oliver did told him something and if nothing else he prided himself in his ability to collect knowledge. “I’m supposed to… talk to you, about humans. And get you to stop influencing them,” he says and _my_ , this one was not resisting temptation at all. He hadn’t been the first angel sent to him with this purpose, but he was one of the first who was so willing to admit it.

He wondered if Heaven meant to fix this one or let him Fall into Barry’s temptation.

Barry laughs at Oliver’s proclamation, a light pretty sound that enchanted even angels, “oh there is no stopping me. Humans were born to sin, that has nothing to do with my influence,” he says. “And besides, God could stop me with the click of his fingers and yet he’s sent you, how… _lazy_ ,” he says casually, as if it was commonplace to insult God.

The other man doesn’t flinch and Barry was impressed, most angels jumped to God’s defense immediately but Oliver seemed to be gaining his own footing. “Maybe he has better things to do than deal with his petulant child,” he says and _ouch_ , Barry was touched that he’d been insulted, really.

“Like what, exactly? Inventing another plague? Humans are growing far too overpopulated, they could use one,” he says. At this Oliver does flinch. People liked to blame the Devil with things went wrong but it was God’s will, not his own. Truthfully his interest in humans extended to the neat things they came up with. Nifty little creatures they were, he was particularly fond of technology. And gum.

“Maybe. It isn’t my place to question,” Oliver says and Barry rolls his eyes. This earns him a stare because angels did not openly mock, that wasn’t their place either. Their job was to act as a bunch of mindless automatons and when Barry had the _audacity_ to question he was cast out, and worse still God told everyone it was because he was jealous of humanity. If he was to be cast out based on jealously of God’s creations humans were not the animal he would have been removed over. He was particularly fond of the jellyfish, they had no brain yet it still functioned, it looked cool, and some of them stung the shit out of people. His kind of creature.

“Why?” Barry asks, tilting his head to the side. Already this one was so different; perhaps he assumed he had a reason to follow that wasn’t simply ‘God’s will’. How delightful it would be if he was right.

“It’s my job to follow God’s will,” he says as if the line had been rehearsed a million and one times. Considering how eroded his angel instincts were it probably had been.

“Well that’s boring,” Barry says flippantly, he had been hoping for something new and he had gotten more of the same.

Oliver frowns, “excuse me?”

Barry perks up at this because an angel just _questioned_ him. Angels may not believe his words but they didn’t often challenge him, except perhaps to defend God. “You’re so different; I thought you’d have something insightful to say. Evidently I was wrong,” he says casually.

He knows pleasure when he sees it and he wonders if Oliver realizes that being an individual was a sin, one was always supposed to serve God, to blend in and be subservient. To take pleasure in individuality was not allowed, and to take pleasure in the _Devil_ telling you you were different was far worse than sin. Absolutely delightful. “I’m not so different,” he says and there were the angel instincts, rearing their ugly head.

“Oh trust me; I’ve seen thousands of angels and saints since the beginning of Time. You’re different,” he says, smiling softly. He was curious to see just how much Oliver would indulge with or without manipulation. He himself was extremely fond of luxuries, he loved the lavish life style and so long as he wasn’t taking from someone else he saw no reason for indulgence to be a sin. Like most things indulgence in moderation was fine, it was overindulgence that was the problem. God assumed that by indulging at all humans would want more and more until their thirst was insatiable. Barry knew that if you gave humans everything they ever wanted there was no need to ask for more.

“Why do you insist on influencing the humans?” Oliver asks, switching to a far more comfortable subject. Hmm.

“I do no such thing, they influence themselves, my presence has nothing to do with it,” he says. Humans were a particularly plucky set of creatures, they would find a way with or without him.

“They wouldn’t be in the state they are now if it wasn’t for you,” Oliver says.

Barry snorts, “oh as opposed to what God filled human era? The Crusades and the Dark Ages? More than ironically Indulgences were handed out, a way to literally buy your way into Heaven, and indulgence is something God _so_ hates. And the _death toll_ ,” he says, “people fight entire wars for God, but when someone fights for me they are one person brought to justice and yet _I’m_ the bad guy.”

“You live a life of luxury,” Oliver says.

“I live a life that I enjoy leading, that’s far more than I can say you and your angels, and I don’t over indulge. Much,” he says, grinning. Of _course_ he over indulged, but somethings could be experienced again and again with no cost to anyone whatsoever. Why not over indulge in those things? There was no one to suffer if he watched the sun rise every day so he could experience its beauty over and over again.

“I like my life just fine,” Oliver says stiffly.

He tilts his head to the side, “is that why you defected? Oh don’t look at me like that, no one sends the Devil the ones who follow the rules. What would I do with them?” he asks in a light, pleasant, and dare he say, _innocent_ tone.

*

Admittedly Oliver hadn’t known what to expect but the Devil left him shocked. He had, rather stupidly if he was honest with himself, assumed that the humans were right in assuming the Devil was a little red man with horns and a tail. He wasn’t, not really. He was a man dressed in red but he didn’t have horns or a tail and he was _beautiful_. His wings alone were something to marvel at, they sat high above his head and the tip dragged on the floor. And they were so so… _soft_ looking, fluffy. They were obviously far more maintained than Oliver’s own battle tattered wings and the Devil’s wings were _shiny_ , like he regularly washed the feathers individually just to get such a stunning effect. And the _colour_ , they were a brilliant red that matched the open silk shirt he was wearing with yellow mixed in and the tips were the most beautiful white.

Even the whitest wings in Heaven were covered in dirt, and yet this particular set of wings gleamed unashamedly with beauty that Oliver hadn’t even know existed. And the _man_. Oliver knew God created beauty, he’s seen it, but this was something else entirely. He was tall, slim, finely muscled with messy brown hair that looked purposefully styled that way and he had the most beautiful blue eyes. And he looked so _young_.

Oliver stops thinking along those lines because the Devil was not pretty, he was a walking sin disguised as something pleasant and he shouldn’t have fallen victim so easily.

Then he speaks and Oliver is lost once again, waiting to hear that voice again because it was so _stunning_. Humans thought angels were pretty but they had nothing on the Devil. “So what am I supposed to call you?” he asks when their conversation seems to be going nowhere. The Devil smiles like he just won a game Oliver didn’t know they were playing.

It wasn’t the first time and Oliver wondered what he was doing to elicit such a smile and it was so beautiful he almost didn’t care. “Call me Barry,” he says and Oliver wrinkles his nose out of instinct. One that his angel superiors weren’t overly fond of. Angels do not mock, but this was the Devil, there had to be some sort of exception for this.

“That is an awful choice in name,” he says bluntly.

“The last one I had was chosen for me, I rather like the freedom to choose for myself,” he says lightly, as if he had that right.

“Lucifer is far more elegant than ‘ _Barry_ ’,” Oliver says, “what in God’s name were you thinking?” he asks.

“Nothing in God’s name that’s for sure. The last name I went by was ‘Bartholomew’, Barry is a nice shortened version of that that doesn’t make reference to human pop culture, plus barriers are sweet, I like sweet things,” he says cheekily.

Oliver had no idea what a berry tasted like and he had no desire to find out, the apparent sweetness of them be damned. “You chose the name of one of the Twelve Apostles of Jesus?” he says flatly. Only the Devil himself would have such audacity.

Barry grins, “I liked the irony,” he says, “I take it you’re not a fan?” he asks playfully.

He had expected the Devil to be mean spirited, angry, and contemptuous. Barry was none of those things and it confused Oliver because everything he had ever been taught had been called into question upon sight let alone the information Barry gave as he spoke. “I’m not much of a fan of anything you do,” he says simply.

“You’re sure about that?” Barry asks and Oliver gives him a confused look because of course he was sure about that. The Devil was everything he was not supposed to be; of course Oliver was not fond of him. “So what landed you here to begin with, hmm, what Big Bad Sin did you commit to be tossed into angel purgatory?” he asks.

Oliver had never met anyone who wasn’t human who asked so many questions unashamedly. Angels were not to ask questions, they were to follow orders under the assumption that God’s plan was more important than whatever concerns they may have. “I became attached to a human. She was special,” he says because she _was_. No one was insignificant, everyone had their role to play, their place in God’s plan, that’s what he’d been taught his whole life so why was it so bad to appreciate the value of that particular human? He didn’t know.

Barry smiles sadly, “oh. Love. That’s truly unfortunate. I’ve never much understood how God could be so selfish to demand people worship him, dedicate their entire lives to him, never indulge in anything, live only to serve him and then has the audacity to call us sinners when we want the same,” Barry says.

“We aren’t meant to love, only serve,” Oliver says, the response flowing naturally off his tongue after having had to repeat it so many times.

Barry tilts his head to the side, “serve _what_ , Oliver? You fight to protect something, but you don’t know what, you serve, but you don’t know who, you work for god, only you’ve never met him. No one has. So what do you serve, Oliver, and what makes you think it’s relevant?”

Oliver frowns because that made no sense whatsoever. “I serve God and his plan. There is no need to question that, or his existence,” he says.

“How can you serve a deity even humans question the existence of?” Barry asks.

“Humans are prone to folly. They are not to be trusted, and neither are you,” Oliver says, finding his footing once again. He didn’t expect to be… _accosted_ with questions. Unfathomable ones at that, the things Barry questioned were facts that weren’t to be questioned. That was the way things were meant to be.

Barry laughs, “they call me the Father of Lies, humans, but what if the greatest lie I’ve ever told was that God existed in the first place? It’s easy to believe in someone that you think is on your side and villainize the one you think works against you, no one ever wonders if they’re one in the same,” he purrs and Oliver’s head hurt.

“That can’t be true, there’s Heaven,” he says, falling back on at least one truth even the Devil couldn’t deny.

Barry snaps his fingers and the temperature drops considerably and the familiar forests of Heaven surround them, “oh Oliver. It’s so sad that you mistake reality for truth. Remember, reality depends wholly on who’s telling the story,” he says and snaps his fingers again. The surroundings turn back into Hell and Oliver is deeply shaken.

*

Barry was sprawled across the large overstuffed couch when Felicity shows up, “what did you do to that poor angel? He looked like he seen a ghost when he had left here,” she says, probably fully prepared to lecture him.

“Oh nothing much,” he says, “I just turned Hell into Heaven.”

Felicity’s jaw drops, “Barry you can’t just _do_ that! Wait, that’s possible?” she asks, frowning. Poor former human, she’d been so upset when he had landed in Hell. Turned out she was quite fond of sex and god forbid one indulge. Barry didn’t blame her, he was rather fond himself and if everyone was willing why not?

Barry snickers, “no, I altered his perceptions, not Hell, but he doesn’t need to know that,” he says, “besides, if his perception was that easily changed who’s to say he was seeing the truth to begin with?” he asks.

Felicity considers his question and flops down on the couch, questioning. She was always questioning, that was why he liked her so much, and she was a technology wizard. Though he admired human ingenuity he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to work technology and that was why he kept Felicity around. Well, that was only partially true, he genuinely liked her and since he was the Devil he was allowed to develop personal connections with no consequences.

“Wow, okay, now that I’m done questioning everything I’ve ever known, _again_ , what do you want to watch?” she asks.

He grins, “Passion of the Christ,” he says without missing a beat.

Felicity wrinkles her nose, “how about no. I feel like needless American violence, something Quentin Tarantino?” she asks.

“Mmm, bloody enough for me,” he decides.

*

Oliver was aware that he wasn’t allowed to have personal connections but Tommy had always drew him in. Unlike the other angels he was so _alive_ and Oliver liked that feeling so he spent a lot of time with him. Tommy is huddled around whatever it was he was eating when he looks up, “so what’s the Devil like?” he asks, getting straight to the point as always.

Tommy was the only one who ever asked any questions, but nothing like the ones Barry asked. Tommy knew his place. “Terrifying,” he says.

“Oh. Well that’s disappointing. I was hoping for some good joke material, please know that I am very disappointed,” he says, grinning at Oliver.

“It’s hardly my fault it’s true,” Oliver says, “he questioned _everything_ Tommy, is was… unnatural.”

Tommy snorts, “he’s the Devil Oliver, that’s kinda in the job description,” he says.

Oliver contemplates for a second, wondering if he should tell Tommy what he had seen, but Tommy was trustable. He wouldn’t tell anyone. “He turned Hell into Heaven, Tommy,” he says quietly.

Tommy almost drops his food, “that… that isn’t possible, Oliver,” Tommy whispers.

He looks up at Tommy, “but it _is_ , if I didn’t see it with my own eyes I wouldn’t believe it either but I _did_ Tommy.”

“He’s a liar,” Tommy says.

“Can you think of an explanation for what I seen?” Oliver asks.

“The Devil plays tricks, Oliver, it had to have been a trick,” Tommy says, looking pale and concerned. Oliver sure as hell hopped that was a trick otherwise he’d been living in Hell all along and he was too stupid to have seen it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's somewhat important to note that this is based more in the Old Testament before Jesus came down and told everyone that no, you do not have to follow the Bible to the letter, it's spirituality that's what counts.

Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord envy them that? Can it be sin to know, can it be death?

John Milton, Paradise Lost

The next time Barry runs into Oliver he isn’t expecting it, mostly because he wasn’t in Hell. People liked to think the devil was locked in some Big Bad cage that he couldn’t escape but he wasn’t. He had been cast out, and Fell, because he wanted freedom rather than subjugation, the ultimate sin, and thus God punished him with the worst thing most angels could imagine. Total freedom. It was strange, Barry thought, that he’d been punished with the very thing he had wanted so badly but he was fairly certain God thought the ‘grass is greener’ argument would apply. It hadn’t, not really, Barry enjoyed being in charge of Hell, loved the luxury, the freedom to do what he wanted, or didn’t want.

Most angels found the thought terrifying and equated freedom with chaos but that wasn’t how it worked. Freedom didn’t mean an absence of structure; it meant the ability to make one’s _own_ structure, one that suited them rather than a one-size-fits-all model. Or, if one chose, a lack of structure in general, or heavy structure one day and none the next.  He flitted all over the map and he liked it that way, it made his life more interesting. Angels though, they didn’t much leave Heaven and Barry assumed that whomever was in charge of Oliver wouldn’t let him leave given his issues with defecting.

“These are certainly your doing,” Oliver says from behind Barry, catching him off guard momentarily.

He turns around lazily, raising an eyebrow at him, “shopping malls? No, humans did this all on their own, I don’t much approve,” he says. Well, he liked shopping, he didn’t like how consumerism worked.

“I can’t imagine why you would disagree with such… extravagance,” Oliver says, lip curling in distaste.

Barry snorts, “oh I have no problem with extravagance, it’s capitalism I have a problem with,” he says.

Oliver raises an eyebrow, clearly expecting an explanation for that and Barry wonders just how many times they had to torture this one to get him to behave right. He must hold some value to Heaven, Barry supposed, for the angels to even bother with someone who was clearly so far gone. “I fled from a structure of subjugation, why would I want to see it recreated here? I don’t desire for humanity to fall into a life of over indulgence and laziness, I desire them to have the freedom to choose what they want the way I did. Freedom to choose one’s own fate should never rest on taking that right away from someone else. So no, I do not approve of capitalism because it requires subjugation and that is something I despise,” he says.

Oliver shakes his head, “you expect too much of them, they were not designed for the kind of freedom you want them to have. They can’t even handle that they don’t all come in white, or male, how do you expect them to handle anarchy?” he asks.

Barry smiles, “oh Oliver, God can’t handle that not everyone comes in an all-powerful omnipotent form and so he chose to subjugate angels and humanity alike, demanding he be worshiped by them. God created humanity in his image, if they choose to subjugate each other it’s because they learned that from their god, not from the devil. The greatest lie God has ever told was that I am responsible when things go wrong.” Oliver remains quite, apparently having no response for Barry’s argument.

“They would not survive anarchy,” Oliver says eventually.

“Not now, maybe, but they are a smart species. I have faith in them to learn, more faith than God,” he points out.

“They were never meant to know, _you_ did this to them,” Oliver says, giving Barry a hard look.

Barry rolls his eyes, “no Oliver, _God_ did this to them. I tried to _free_ them from their restraints but God feared those who had the knowledge he did and so he tried to make humanity stupid, and worse he passed that stupidity off as ‘innocence’ or ‘purity’. There is nothing innocent about the inability to learn, to grow, it was a power play for God to control them easily. I wished a better future for them and so I gave them the apple, I never told them to eat it, God lied about that. Frankly it was his own fault; he gave humanity curiosity and ‘innocence’ and then damned them when they chose to engage in that curiosity out of innocence.”

Oliver looks offended, “God does not lie,” he says.

“Make no mistake, Oliver, God does not speak truth for truth is made by the person in charge, of course they claim the revolutionaries are lying. The truth of naturalness is that it was invented to keep people from asking questions, and to shame and even kill those who do not fit the only available mold. Truth does not exist here, nor do I have it, I am not so arrogant to assume I know all, just simply that I know,” he says.

“What do you know?” Oliver asks, angry.

“More than you,” Barry says flippantly.

“I doubt that,” Oliver says.

“Those who question the system they live in always know more; those that push the boundaries are those we never forget, and who had questioned and pushed boundaries more than me? That doesn’t mean I know all, just more than you,” he says.

“Some things are not made to question,” Oliver says, standing by his argument fiercely.

“Oliver _all_ things are made to question, it’s called invention, ingenuity, creativity, _art_ , and if things aren’t changing they’re moving backwards. Nothing is worse than a society who thinks they have learned everything there is to know, learning is a process and we are never done,” he says.

“There are societies that have reached perfection, Heaven, for example,” Oliver says and Barry’s lip curls.

“No Oliver, a society that relies on subjugation is _not_ perfect; it is the farthest thing from it. Societies that rely on subjugation are the result of the weak realizing that they must enslave the strong lest they take over and that is what Heaven is,” he says.

“If the subjugated are strong why are they the ones following? It would reason that the people in charge are the strong ones,” Oliver says and _oh_ that was so… limiting.

“The best way to beat an opponent that is stronger than you is to convince them that they have to strength at all so they never choose to fight. If that opponent is one that will never go away you convince them that they never had power, and they never will by virtue of existing in a certain form. After you convince them their subjugation is natural, their weakness inescapable, they almost subjugate themselves. But it’s only a matter of time before someone questions that idea and then all it takes is a few whispers, and one tiny revolution and the whole system must change. Humans have done it time and time again; they are proof that subjugation is only as natural as the system tells you it is. After all most Americans consider slavery barbaric now when they wouldn’t have three hundred years ago. Think about it,” he says genuinely.

They sit in silence people watching for some time before Oliver speaks again, “so what are you doing here? I wouldn’t imagine you would have much to do here besides throw untrue philosophical arguments at me,” he says.

Barry snorts, “oh don’t act as if I knew you were going to be here, I am not omnipotent and I would never be so arrogant to assume I was. I’m here because I was visiting a human friend of mine, and what, pray tell, drew you here?” he asks. He was genuinely curious what could have drawn the angel out of his hidey hole in Heaven.

“None of your business,” Oliver growls, glaring at him. Barry shrugs because it was only a matter of time before he knew anyways and he was patient. He only had all of eternity to figure it out. They continue to sit and Oliver’s attention eventually strays from watching Barry like a hawk to a woman across the mall. She was pretty, Barry supposed, though he liked Felicity better. He saw nothing particularly special about the human but perhaps Oliver saw something that he didn’t.

“Your special human, I presume?” he asks and Oliver’s head snaps around to glare at him, “I’m not a moron,” he points out.

“That’s debatable,” Oliver snaps. Barry decides to forgive him for that because Oliver was mostly brainwashed, it was hardly his fault that he had been taught to believe everything around him was natural. It took a long time to unlearn the rules Heaven taught, even Barry still had trouble seeing past Heaven’s assumptions.

“I don’t see anything particularly special about her,” Barry says and this draws Oliver’s attention back to him near immediately.

“And this is why you’re a moron,” he says.

Barry smiles, “so what drew you to her? There must be something, even if only you see it,” he says.

For a second Oliver is confused because he was not used to someone taking value in his opinion, or at least that’s what Barry assumed. “You think there’s something special about her?” he asks, eye brows drawing together.

“No Oliver, you do. I don’t need to think she’s special for you to think she’s special, we’re two different people, it stands to reason what we consider special differs because of that. So what do you think is so special about her?” he asks.

Oliver considers his answer for a few minutes and Barry waits patiently for his answer. If nothing else the fact that Oliver chose to think rather than give him an answer that he had been taught was true was intriguing enough for Barry. “She baffles me; her passion is so… bright. The way she pours herself into everything she does, it’s impressive and I’ve never seen anything like it. It must be exhausting and yet she never seems to grow tired, she’s important, I can feel it,” he says, “do you see it now?”

Barry shakes his head and Oliver looks disappointed, “the beauty of freedom, Oliver, is that you can find things important that I don’t. Not everything needs to have some massive significance to be important, sometimes people are important to one person and not another and that’s fine. I have a human I rather enjoy, Felicity, I doubt you’d like her at all considering she’s fun and you’re… not, but it wouldn’t matter if you found value in her or not for me to consider her valuable. In fact whether or not either one of us finds value in Felicity doesn’t matter, people hold importance because they exist, not because they serve, and not because someone else values them. There is no quota a person has to meet before they become important, they are born that way.”

Oliver soaks this in and Barry considers it a victory of epic proportions. Angels didn’t listen to the Devil, he was wrong, the ultimate Sin, a pariah. However it worked wonders, even with angels, to tell someone that what they were feeling was valid, even if no one else ever experienced it. “So you think Laurel matters because she exists, and because I find value in her, and that this value exists whether or not you can see it?” he asks, trying hard to process that information. Barry doesn’t blame him, it was not something Oliver would have ever learned, in fact he would have learned the opposite. People did not have individual value, their value only existed in some tapestry, they simply functioned as a part to make the whole better. They were not a whole themselves and Barry thought that was sad.

One did not have to be a piece of something to hold value, and existing as one whole thing did not mean that people could not form together to make something greater than their individual value. “Yes,” he says, “we are all important because we are _here_ , not because we are a part of something bigger. And just because we hold value as individuals does not mean we cannot hold value as a part of something bigger, value is not a zero sum.” Oliver is convinced, Barry knows, because that stubborn fierceness that graced his beautiful face when he was defending his opinions was there.

If only Heaven knew the stupidity in sending the Devil an angel that wanted to hear that he was right, that his opinions were real, valid. If they knew they would have never sent Oliver to him in the first place because all it took was one thing and Oliver would begin to question all.

*

Oliver leaves Barry to do whatever it was he spent his time doing and he leaves Laurel too. He doesn’t want to but he does, he was certain she wasn’t fond of him anyways. He hadn’t exactly made the best of impressions and Laurel was the suspicious type, always analyzing the things around her for inconsistencies. Oliver was one big mystery that she hadn’t been able to solve, too many things didn’t add up, and of course she was suspicious, and then he disappeared. It wasn’t as if he could tell her the truth though, and she wouldn’t believe it even if he did so he went. That was what was best for everyone involved but especially Laurel.

He didn’t understand Heaven’s need for him to focus on only one task. His performance was the same as it had always been, his tasks were completed on time, so he saw no need to be removed from his post. Laurel was not a distraction if nothing had changed and the las thing he had expected was for the Devil to sympathize with him. To tell him he was right.

And Barry had said Laurel was important, even if no one else thought so. Even if Oliver didn’t think so. The idea that someone could be important without a specific use was foreign to him but it made sense, according to Heaven Laurel had no use, nothing that would make her particularly important anyways. But Oliver could tell she was special, there was something about her but he didn’t have the words to describe the feeling he had. He knew what he felt though, and it was a surprise that Barry agreed.

It probably shouldn’t surprise him, his feelings were supposedly unnatural and what was more unnatural than Barry? His feelings _weren’t_ unnatural though, he would know if they were and Barry knew it. It made him wonder what else Barry knew that he didn’t, if anything, but he ignores those instincts because Barry being right about one thing didn’t mean he was right about everything.

Oliver was not going to question everything he had ever known because the Devil got it right one time, that didn’t make sense.

*

Barry curls up on his large bed, Felicity nestled in one wing with a book. “Do angles have sexualities because your pet angel with the green wings is pretty hot,” she says.

Barry flexes his wing, jostling her a bit, “hands off, if anyone gets to corrupt him it’s me thank you very much, I’m putting in some hard work here,” he lies.

Felicity snorts, “nothing is hard work to you,” she says.

Barry was offended, really, “that is a lie, lots of things are hard work. Have you ever tried pruning your own wings? It’s an absolute pain. Besides, manipulation is difficult, not that’d you’d know, you’re painfully honest,” he says.

“I don’t have wings so no I have no idea how difficult it is to prune them myself. And so are you, painfully honest I mean, that’s why it’s so easy for you to manipulate people. You tell them they’re right when they are and if they aren’t right you don’t say anything, it creates the illusion that you’re right all the time,” she says and Barry smiles. He knew he kept this one around for a reason, usually he got bored by now, humans were far too formulaic for his tastes, but Felicity was special.

“It’s nice when someone figures it out for once, most people don’t catch on to the trend,” he says.

Felicity shrugs, “I mean you can’t be right all the time so I started watching what you do, when you talk, what you say, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out,” she tells him.

He laughs, “no it isn’t but it’s amazing what people will see when they’re not looking at all.” The things he’s managed to talk people in to, and out of, was absurd.

“I’ve always been really good at patterns, it’s why I’m so good with technology, I figured it was a matter of time before I figured you out but you were surprisingly easy,” she says, almost sounding disappointed.

“Well Felicity, there’s beauty in simplicity and it really isn’t hard to convince people they’re right, especially when that’s what they want to hear, more so when they’re already convinced. Sometimes people just need a gentle nudge in the right direction,” he says. Like Oliver, he was stifled under Heaven and he was looking for an escape so he invented one in Laurel and convinced himself she was special. It wasn’t hard to push someone who already wanted to jump.

“Do you manipulate me?” she asks and they both know it’s a stupid question with an obvious answer. He wasn’t going to tell her what she wanted to hear either, because manipulation was an art, but outright lying was ignorant. She deserved better than that.

“Of course I do,” he says, “oh don’t look so hurt, we manipulate each other all the time, it’s nature, it doesn’t need to be inherently malicious. Like when one of us doesn’t want to change the Blu-ray, we tell the other one we did it the last two times, make the other one feel bad and lazy in comparison and then someone who isn’t you changes the disk. That doesn’t hurt anyone, and it’s give and take, you can apply manipulation in a multitude of different ways that don’t harm the person you’re manipulating,” he says. Like telling the person you’re manipulating that subtle manipulations happened all the time, that the manipulation that’s happening to them is mundane, and that they do it too so they feel guilty enough not to question it.

Felicity thinks this over and blinks a few times, “oh,” she says, “I guess you make a point.” Manipulation was art, and he rather enjoyed it, outright lying was just far too crude for his tastes anyways.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief warning Barry drugs everyone, sort of, but it's dubious at best just so you know.

Has anyone ever wondered that maybe Lucifer didn’t say “I am better than you God,” but maybe that he said “I am better than what you have deemed me to be?”

John Holmes

Iris invites him to a Halloween party and he’s just too curious to resist. Besides, Halloween is a special sort of time where human superstition becomes so great it actually alters the way magic and physics works in some places, North America being one of them. Humans are susceptible to believing in what isn’t there, and around this time they do that so much that they actually create the things they imagined. It was incredible really, and also it was nice for him because humans could actually see and touch Felicity now if he worked his magic right.

“You can’t be serious,” she says upon seeing his costume, “I thought you sticking me in this angel costume was for like… I don’t know, a joke or something. I didn’t realize we were meant to be a couple costume,” she says.

“I think it’s ironic,” Barry says, doing a little spin for Felicity, “and what better costume to complete the Devil than an angel? It isn’t like I can get Oliver to come along, he’d run at the mention of literally any fun,” he says, pouting.

“The point of Halloween is to dress up as something you aren’t, not a bad caricature of what you _are_ ,” she says, “but I like this costume because my boobs look great so I’m not changing,” she says. “And you look cute even if I do not approve,” she tells him, smiling before going off to complete her costume.

He had, of course, dressed up as the devil because he just couldn’t resist the temptation to do such a thing. It wasn’t often he got invited out by humans, usually he didn’t mingle with them much, and this was just far too good of an opportunity to waste. Besides he had the _perfect_ red jacket to pin his devil tail to and the horns looked cute in his naturally messy hair, the little red trident was just for fun.

“So let me get this straight,” Felicity says as she adjusts the necklace that made her presence a little more… corporeal, “you are, for all intents and purposes, a timeless being who is crazy powerful considering you made a dead person real again, and you get your kicks going to college parties?” she asks.

“Oh I can’t do this all the time, humans need to be feeling particularly spooked for the magic to work right and Halloween always brings out the suspicion in people. As for the ways I entertain myself well, I’ve been alive a long time. If I didn’t learn to enjoy the little things I’d be rather bored now wouldn’t I? Besides, how many college students can say they partied with the devil?” he asks, grinning. Plus he couldn’t keep turning down Iris’ offers to go out, that would look suspicious and when humans started to dig it never seemed to go well. Curiosity killed the cat after all, and if on some off chance Iris found out he was actually the devil he doubted satisfaction would bring her back from that.

“You are evil,” Felicity says, laughing along with him.

“That’s what they say.”

Iris was easy to find, mostly because he was used to her energy. “Barry, hey!” she says, hugging him upon seeing him as usual. “Is _that_ the girl you always talk about?” she asks, gesturing to Felicity, who has already found someone else to talk to. Iris was not particularly special as far as human interests go, she, like most humans, seemed to be inexplicably hung up on romance. It meant he got pestered a lot about the subject and so he had told Iris about Felicity to quell her curiosity some.

“She is,” he says, “stunning, right?” he asks even though he knows the answer to that already. Of course Felicity was stunning, a little dead, but stunning nonetheless. Not that the humans knew the difference, for one night only Felicity, for all intents and purposes, got to live again so long as she kept that necklace on.

“Yeah,” Iris says, “bit flirty though, don’t you think?” she asks and right. Humans here had a thing for monogamy for some inexplicable reason.

“Felicity does what she wants and I don’t really see a reason to care,” he says.

Iris’ eyebrows damn near hit her hairline, “you don’t _care_? But… but what if she cheats?” she asks, sounding aghast.

“Cheating implies that we’re playing a game, which also implies a distinct winner. That isn’t what we’re doing, and her… sexcapades have little to do with our relationship,” he says. Iris looks flat out shocked, as does the guy who wandered up mid-conversation.

“Wow, you’re a liberal one. Eddy,” he says and extends his hand and that was another human thing Barry didn’t get. Why they insisted on touching hands here he had no clue, it was weird and did nothing for him but it would look weird if he didn’t shake the guy’s hand.

“Barry,” he says with a flattering smile, “so what, exactly, are you supposed to be?” he asks.

Eddy blinks a few times before he regains his bearings, “yeah, ugh, a Roman gladiator!” he says, grinning.

Barry makes a face, “that costume is _so_ inaccurate,” he says, laughing.

“Oh come on, Halloween is supposed to be fun, not historically accurate. Besides there is no way your devil costume is accurate, sweet wings though, they real,” he says.

Barry smiles again and the action draws the attention of lingering humans, “oh I can assure you, I am the actual devil,” he jokes, “the wings took forever and I only wore them for one cosplay so I figured I might as well get my use out of them,” he says. Never mind that they were actually real, the humans didn’t need to know that. The cosplay line does what it’s supposed to and Eddy starts asking a million and one questions, Iris joins in on the conversation, and the wings don’t bring any suspicion at all. He rather hated hiding them, he worked hard on making them look pretty, and at least he got to show them off here.

*

He wasn’t expecting Oliver’s presence at a college party of all things for a number of reasons, one of them being that Oliver hated fun, and another being that Oliver had better things to do. But he appears nonetheless and he was the _perfect_ test subject for Barry’s drinks. “Want something?” he asks, already knowing the answer before he asks.

People were gathered around, staring at Barry, and now they were staring at Oliver because Barry was staring at Oliver. “I… ugh… umm, sure, I guess,” he says, not sounding very impressed with this situation at all. Ahh the power of peer pressure.

He mixes the drink with Oliver in particular in mind and hands the drink off to him. Oliver takes the drink reluctantly, fueled by the need to fit in and to not look like a jackass in front of a bunch of humans. He examines the drink skeptically, then looks over to Barry’s wings, which happened to match the drink, “are you going to drink that sometime this year?” he asks. Oliver was left with little choice to take a sip if he wanted to continue to go unnoticed by the humans, if he drank it they’d forget, if he didn’t they’d remember.

So he chooses the eviler of two evils and takes a drink, making a surprised noise as he does so, “that… that’s amazing!” he says, “I’ve never drank anything like it before, what is this?” he asks and Barry grins.

“Temptation,” he says and Oliver manages to keep character and doesn’t stop smiling.

“Looks good, make me one,” Iris says and he starts mixing her a drink, “wait, aren’t those different ingredients?” she asks.

Barry finishes her drink and grin, handing it to her, “temptation is different for you, dear,” he says and she takes the drink. She looks at it for a second before taking a sip and her reaction was the same as Oliver’s, it tasted amazing, never drank anything like it, blah, blah. Pretty much everyone wanted one after that and he was all too happy to oblige.

“You just drugged an entire party of humans!” Oliver hisses.

Barry rolls his eyes, “I gave them a little temptation, they aren’t going to _die_ ,” he says.

“They aren’t meant to consume that kind of magic,” Oliver hisses back.

“Then why didn’t you stop me?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, “peer pressure is what got you into this situation, you know that we’re supposed to blend in. Had you pulled me aside I would have had little choice but to go if for no other reason than not making too many waves. If you truly believed that I wronged these humans somehow, or drugged them and you simply stood aside and let me do so than you’re just as guilty as I am. Besides, temptation only makes them more likely to do what they want, which is pretty much exactly what alcohol does so I haven’t done something to them that they themselves wouldn’t already do,” he says.

“You are _great_ at making excuses for your behaviour,” Oliver says, looking particularly passionate tonight.

“And what has made you so angry, my argument is true and you know it so-” he starts to ask why and then he remembers a familiar face, “you let me drug your special human?” he asks, remembering Laurel’s face in there somewhere.

“Oh so now you drugged them, how _convenient_ for you,” Oliver snaps.

Barry rolls his eyes, “alcohol is also a drug, which they all already dosed themselves with, which is basically temptation anyways. I can’t believe you let me drug your special human,” he says and laughs. He’s rather happy Oliver doesn’t punch him because he can feel that Oliver wanted to, but there’s something else there too.

“What did you even _do_ to this drink? I don’t feel any different and all the humans are clearly affected,” he says, gesturing to the crowd behind them. The humans were all drunk was what Oliver meant; the fact that they were also happy was Barry’s doing.

“Then maybe you were already tempted,” he says, “and you might as well drink the rest of that, all it takes is a sip to affect you,” he says though that’s only partially true. It only took a sip to affect _humans_ , angels were different and he was curious. Oliver should have put the drink down, he already admitted that it hadn’t had an effect on him, and the drink was sweet enough to be considered indulgence without Barry’s little dose of fun.

He doesn’t though, mercifully, because Barry was bored and Oliver was going to provide his entertainment. Instead of turning the drink down like a good angel he downs the entire thing and hands the glass back to Barry. He makes another and holds it out to Oliver, making him do the work to retrieve the drink because he was not going to deal with ‘you drugged me’ claims later, thank you. Oliver doesn’t even hesitate in taking the drink this time and he couldn’t even claim he was tempted because it wouldn’t have kicked in _that_ fast. He just liked the taste and Barry didn’t blame him, it tasted great.

He mixes himself a drink even though it wouldn’t have much of an effect on him, he could indulge every once and a while. It wasn’t like he had a god to answer to. He was surprised, though, when the drink gets pulled from his hand and he looks over just as Oliver takes a sip.

Oliver wrinkles his nose, “oh that is _way_ too sweet,” he says and he eyeballs the drink for a second before he takes another drink.

Barry carefully pulls his drink back, “too much temptation for you,” he says, fully intending on keeping the drink from Oliver. His drink was considerably strong and he wanted entertainment, not a disaster. He didn’t feel like cleaning up any messes tonight.

“Since when does temptation have a limit? Aren’t you all about free will?” Oliver asks.

“Sure, but you consider temptation a drug, I’m only saving you from yourself,” he says flippantly.

“That’s a twisted way to look at it considering you were the one who gave me the drug to begin with,” Oliver says.

“You were the one who drank it,” he points out.

“You didn’t tell me what it was until after I drank it and by then it was too late!” Oliver protests.

“That was a lie and you knew it,” Barry says, “you already pointed out you didn’t feel anything,” he says.

“But… but you said…” Oliver trails off because he should have seen that coming, really, “but you said,” he repeats stupidly.

Barry uses the little red trident he was holding and points to the horns on his head, “lying is in the job description,” he says.

“But you’ve never lied to me before,” Oliver says, looking surprisingly sad about this situation.

“Not outright, no,” he says, “lying is crude, manipulation is more fun,” he tells Oliver, deciding to level the playing ground a little by giving Oliver a bit if information on himself. Actually that was a considerably large bit of information but Oliver didn’t know it, not right now.

Oliver considers his words, “why bother? Aren’t you bored of resisting? Don’t you want to come home?” he asks.

“Heaven was never any home of mine,” he says, “I love Hell, love the people in it, don’t look at me like that. I control who enters, everyone I dislike ends up in purgatory, I don’t want to hang out with creeps and people who yell at servers. I have taste, thank you, but mostly I have control. Perhaps some people thrive in Heaven’s structure, the routine, but I hate it, I’ve always hated it,” he says.

“You drugged an entire party full of people, I think you classify under creep,” Oliver says, completely missing the point of that statement.

“I thought we established that I basically gave them what they already wanted given that the effects of a little temptation and alcohol are basically the same,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “besides, no one here has any dark temptations. One person wanted a giant teddy bear collection for some inexplicable reason, that sound like that special human of yours?” he asks because if he was going to have a meaningless conversation he was at least going to try and learn something from it.

Oliver snorts, “Laurel hates stuffed animals,” he says.

“Laurel hates fun,” Barry says, only half interested in the conversation.

Oliver remains quiet for a few minutes, probably sensing Barry’s disinterest, “so you never want to go back?” he asks eventually.

To Heaven, Barry knew, was what Oliver meant. “Lies and manipulation may be in the job description, Oliver, but that’s one thing I’d never bother to coat in whatever it is I’m serving this week. There was a time when God may have taken me back but I don’t beg or grovel and I will not ask for forgiveness for knowing my worth,” he says fiercely.

“Knowing your worth? You mean that you’re better than God?” Oliver says, a mix between confused and offended.

“No Oliver, I don’t think I’m better than God, I know that I am not infallible, and I know that I’m prone to making mistakes. I never claimed that I was better than God, I outright knew I was better than servitude and so is everyone else, so I chose to speak up and I was cast out because of it,” he says.

“You… didn’t claim you were better than God?” Oliver asks, apparently having a hard time wrapping his head around this concept.

“God has created an image of himself that suggests that he is the unattainable perfection, which is odd considering every creation he’s ever made was a mistake, but the fact that there _is_ no better for me to have reached remains the same. How is it possible for me to have claimed to have been better than perfection? You angles talk about it all the time, how preposterous that is, but instead of questioning God’s dubious claims and examining _why_ he would say such a thing you all believed him and deemed me an idiot. Consider this Oliver, if God is the only God there is, and I find that doubtful, and he is perfection than how could one of his creations have gone _so wrong_ that he has managed to corrupt everything he has touched since he Fell, hmm? If God was infallible I could not exist because God would not have made the mistake of creating me,” he says.

Oliver probably wouldn’t have entertained that notion ‘sober’ so to speak, but he did now because he wanted to and the temptation was a simple one. Even angels were made to question, they were just taught not to and they weren’t quite as easily swayed as humans. “Why didn’t he destroy you?” he asks and _that_ was a very good question.

“What reason can you think of for that? Because by all means to make me my own heaven so-to-speak makes no sense. I wanted freedom, I wanted it badly enough to revolt and instead of punishing me God gave me… exactly what I wanted?” he asks, “seems a little odd, don’t you think, I have yet to come up with an explanation for it.”

They remain silent while Oliver thinks that over and Barry turns back to the happy humans singing some very terrible karaoke. They were simple creatures, humans, and they lived for such a painfully short amount of time. It was a shame really, humans were ingenious at coming up with new and interesting ways to entertain themselves, they should have longer to enjoy such things. “He couldn’t destroy you,” Oliver says and Barry turns back to him. “Angels can’t be killed, he couldn’t destroy you so he made you seem… terrible, awful, so no one else would follow you. And he gave you everything you wanted so you wouldn’t cause trouble, like when humans pay each other so they don’t tell everyone all their meaningless secrets! And it _worked_!” Oliver says, excited now because he thinks he’s got it figured out.

“Did he?” Barry asks, cocking his head to the side. Oliver was right of course, but he didn’t want Oliver to go off and start clinging to _his_ every thought and whim. He didn’t want a follower, he wanted Oliver to think for himself and agreeing immediately wasn’t going to get him that.

Oliver frowns, “yeah,” he says, sounding far less certain now, “that’s what you’ve been trying to tell me for the last few weeks, hasn’t it?” he asks.

“I’m not trying to tell you or convince you of anything,” Barry tells him, “I’ve been sharing my points of view and opinions with you. I don’t expect you to agree, I expect you to learn how think for yourself,” he says.

“ _Ouch_ Barry, you could have let the poor guy down easy,” Iris says, surprising him out of nowhere, “we need to work on your ‘being nice’ skills,” she tells him and pulls him away.

“Think about it,” he says to Oliver as Iris drags him away.

*

 Oliver _swore_ he had it all figured out but then Barry… he undermined the whole thing and now Oliver was confused. But Barry told him he wanted to think for himself so maybe there was a method to his madness as the humans liked to put it. _What_ that might be Oliver wasn’t sure, he wasn’t sure if he was thinking on his own and he didn’t know how Barry expected him to know if he was or not. Instead of thinking and making his own head hurt he watches Barry interact with the humans.

He was considerably popular, which was hardly surprising considering how bright his energy was. Even Oliver was attracted to him and he had considerably more willpower than humans. Barry seems to enjoy himself but Barry always seemed to enjoy himself so maybe Oliver was reading this wrong, or everything else wrong. There was no way Barry was always happy with his situation and aside from the lull in conversation earlier he had never seen Barry upset or annoyed or… or anything other than generally pleased with himself.

Was that what questioning things got you? Happiness? He wasn’t sure but he wanted what Barry had because he wasn’t happy now, or even content. The humans seemed to be just enthused with Barry though and at one point one particularly drunk human managed to get him to sing karaoke with her, which probably wasn’t a good thing because by the time Barry finished off his first line the entire crowd was drooling for more. Thankfully the other human was absolutely terrible and her awful skills seemed to break up Barry’s voice enthralling the crowd. Eventually he leaves because he had lost sight of Laurel long ago and Barry was busy entertaining his batch of overly enthused humans so that left him with nothing to do.                                                            

Heaven was much colder to him now for some reason and he shivers, his wings pulling closer around him as he walked through the familiar terrain. “Oliver,” someone says from behind him so he turns, more out of instinct than actually wanting to talk to whomever it was calling to him. “Where have you been?” the other angel asks.

Oliver lies, of course, because spending the night watching Laurel and hanging out with the Devil was far more than unacceptable. “Patrolling,” he says because there was no way they would be able to tell I he was or not, there was too much land to cover to see if his story was true or not.

“Where?” the other angel asks.

“South end,” Oliver says flawlessly, “by Tommy’s.” That was his mistake, though he didn’t realize it until it was pointed out to him.

“Tommy’s?” the angel asks and Oliver was tempted to roll his eyes because that was literally what he just said. But he refrains from openly mocking because that was not acceptable behaviour.

“Yes, the general area that Tommy always seems to be in,” he says, unable to keep a hint of annoyance from his voice. Damn Barry and his temptation.

“You imply that the area belongs to Tommy,” the angel says and Oliver has had enough, he was _tired_ of this and he just wanted to sleep.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, nothing belongs to us, everything belongs to God, including us, we get nothing, we do nothing, we’re in prison, I _get_ it. Can I go to sleep now?” he asks, annoyed and not bothering to keep it from his voice.

“Did you just call Heaven _prison_?” the other angel asks and then Oliver realizes how badly he has screwed up.

Damn Barry and his temptation, Oliver couldn’t even bring himself to care.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even certain the end of this chapter makes total sense because I am but a sleep deprived trash can but here y'all are.

An apology for the devil: it must be remembered that we have heard one side of the case. God has written all the books

Samuel Butler

Oliver didn’t mention friends and Barry assumed he had none. God didn’t allow angels to make connections the way humans did, humans needed to reproduce to continue, angels did not. That slight change in how they were made meant that angels didn’t need to, at any point, develop some sort of arrangement to continue as a species which meant God was all that was left.

So when another angel all but drops Oliver on his front door step so to speak he was a little surprised, more so because the angel looked concerned. Oliver looked like hell, no pun intended, as he was considerably bruised and beaten. “What’s this?” he asks and the other angel stares forward dumbly, obviously taken by Barry’s beauty, “are you going to answer my question sometime this century?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I… you… Oliver needs help, obviously, and they say that you were His favourite because you were the best one, the most perfect one. I can’t heal wounds well at all and I thought… I thought…” the angel trails off, frowning, probably because thinking was a new thing for him.

“You thought I could help? With the healing?” he asks, understanding some of Oliver’s tendencies now. It was clear that he and the blue-winged angel had some sort of connection; after all he cared about Oliver enough to drag him to Hell.

“Yes, hopefully. He’s in pain,” the other angel says with feeling, giving Oliver a pitying look.

“Save your pity for someone who needs it, right now we need to reset that wing before it heals itself and we have to re-break it _then_ reset it,” Barry says, setting out further instructions for the angel to follow. He quickly realizes that this one has deferred too, though in ways that must be far subtler than Oliver’s own methods considering there was no signs of torture while there were plenty on Oliver, and not just new wounds either. Well then, the plot thickens.

*

Oliver wakes up slowly with Felicity leaning over him, which apparently comes as a shock because he recoils. She does too, jumping back a bit in surprise over Oliver’s reaction, “sorry, sorry,” she mumbles, scuttling backwards.

“S’fine,” Oliver grits out, trying to struggle to sit up.

“Sit back down, you have a busted wing!” Tommy instructs, pushing Oliver back onto his makeshift bed. Barry had been tempted to deposit him on his own bed, just to see if he enjoyed it any, but the softness of his mattress didn’t lend itself nicely to the structure Oliver would need to heal properly. Also he didn’t want to give up his bed, it was bad enough that Felicity slept in there sometimes.

“M’fine,” Oliver mumbles, struggling terribly to try and get past Tommy, and failing miserably, before he seems to realize something. “We aren’t in Heaven,” he says, his tone questioning.

“Yeah and from what they did to you you should probably be happy about that. I thought Heaven was supposed to be some sort of paradise, not a place where you get tortured for not following the rules. I don’t know what I was expecting out of Hell but I’m glad I ended up here,” Felicity says, giving Oliver pitying looks.

Oliver looks shocked; Tommy a little less so, because they had both been taught the path to righteousness _was_ paradise. Felicity, obviously, disagreed and Barry was on her side when ‘righteousness’ in God’s eyes was synonymous with ‘follow all my rules without asking questions ever lest you suffer the consequences’. “Paradise is meant to be the path to redemption and righteousness, Hell leads to the path of luxury, which humans now conflate with paradise,” Oliver says automatically.

“Then why does anyone even bother with Heaven?” Felicity asks, “righteousness obviously isn’t what Heaven is about.”

Oliver and Tommy look confused by that but its Tommy who’s brave enough to question, sparing Barry a glace while he does it, probably looking to see if he was a danger the way the other angels were. “What do you mean?” he asks slowly, testing the words out and looking back at Barry again to see if he cared. He didn’t, and the question wasn’t a particularly good one anyways.

“Does _this_ ,” Felicity gestures to Oliver’s general person, “look like righteousness to you two? Torturing people who question what sounds like a really backwards regime? Because it looks like a dystopian novel to me,” she tells them with conviction, looking meaningfully at the two of them.

He sits back and lets Felicity to the work for him. Tommy had already clung to basically every word he had said, and Oliver had slowly come around, but both would consider Felicity a non-biased source despite being close to him making her biased. They didn’t understand emotional connections though, even though they had one, because they were taught that emotional connections took away from their devotion to God. They both thought, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, that humans worked exactly like angels, which meant that any source that wasn’t Barry was a reliable one. He didn’t bother to correct them because Felicity was right, for one, and because he was curious to see what happened with the two of them.

“I… but… um,” Tommy sputters, not sure how to respond to that because he obviously disagreed with Oliver’s punishment but he still, on some level, clung to the Heaven’s ideals.

“I don’t know why everyone gives Barry the bad wrap, God sounds like an asshole but I guess he was the one who wrote the Bible and history is always written by the victor so,” she says, ending her sentence awkwardly and shaking her head. Oliver and Tommy look like they don’t know what to do with that and Barry doesn’t blame them. They’ve never heard it framed like that before and they had been taught to only view it in the right way, God’s way, and questioning is blasphemy.

“So… you’re right?” Tommy asks, looking to Barry.

“Ugh, no,” Felicity says, drawing Tommy’s attention back to her, “neither of them are,” she says. This throws Tommy for a total loop but Oliver only looks slightly lost, obviously having grown used to questions via humans and Barry.

“But there are only two stories, one of them has to be right,” Tommy says.

“There are only two stories told by two people who are dead set in their beliefs that they’re right. The truth is either somewhere in the middle of both stories or a third story all together,” she says, ever so smart. Felicity was shockingly smart, observant, he wished he had’ve come across a human like her before but sadly they were mostly dull and boring.

“But… how is there a third story with only two people to tell it?” Tommy asks, at least trying to generate a question worth hearing now.

“Well when two people think their right they read the each other’s actions only through their own lens of right and wrong, but God and Barry have totally different views of right and wrong which means they both think they’re equally right. If you want the truth you’d need a third person to interpret their stories to find what matched, what didn’t, and where the truth might be or if it even exists,” Felicity says. Oliver looks impressed and Tommy looks confused.

“But if everyone only views things through what they think is right then no one is ever telling the truth because they’re only reproducing the truth as they see it at all times,” Tommy says, “so that means the truth doesn’t exist.”

“That is a _very_ good observation,” Barry says, sounding impressed. “But the truth does exist because some reproductions are interpreted as truth. Like God being the beginning of the universe, for example, but if God made the universe, who made God? And who made whoever made God and so on,” Barry says.

“If the truth exists as a reproduction that would mean it isn’t true because a reproduction means that it came from a copy and the copy might not have been right to begin with,” Tommy says, frowning while trying to follow his own logic.

“When something is repeated enough it becomes the truth whether or not it was true to begin with,” Barry says, “like the suggestion that people are ‘naturally’ lesser than others simply because they had the audacity to be born in a certain way, or made a certain way in the case of angels. There is nothing that exists in nature to suggest anyone is inferior, inferiority is a social construction designed to benefit whoever sits on the top of the social pyramid, but they don’t want you to know that. So they repeat their argument so much that even the group labeled inferior begins to believe it’s true and once someone becomes complicit in their own subjugation they start to subjugate those who question their ‘place’. What your angel friends did to Oliver, for example, for questioning his supposed inferiority in Heaven,” Barry explains.

Tommy stares off into space, thinking over Barry’s words while Oliver frowns. “When does the social construction stop being truth?” he asks and Tommy’s attention gets drawn back to Oliver. He looks between Oliver and Barry, curious about the new dynamic he was witnessing.

“When enough people begin to challenge the truth and then they begin to define a new truth, usually one that isn’t far off from the original ideal. Things begin to change slowly, and the truth with it, truth is wholly dependent on who is defining it,” Barry says.

“I don’t think I understand anything,” Tommy whispers, eyes wide.

“Oh you understand things just fine, he just likes to question everything for no reason,” Oliver says, making a face.

“You like to believe everything you hear for no reason,” Barry counters, “even you know the truths you’ve been fed are wrong because they exist contrary to your personal lived experience so I don’t know why you think I’m the wrong one,” he says.

“Because you insist on making everything more complicated than it is. Some things just _are_ , not everything has some deeper meaning,” Oliver says and Tommy’s eyes grow wider. Clearly he hadn’t ever had this kind of conversation with Oliver; perhaps he didn’t think Oliver was capable of arguing. Angels didn’t argue, it would only be natural to assume that if they didn’t do something it was because they were incapable of doing that particular action.

“Or maybe you make everything simple because you find it easier to understand instead of questioning the world around you to come to a deeper understanding. Make no mistake, Oliver, most everything people assume is natural _does_ have a political agenda and to ignore that is to live in ignorance,” he says.

“I need to go do something that makes my brain hurt less,” Tommy says, rubbing his temples.

“Why must everything be made up to you, next you’re going to argue wings aren’t natural,” Oliver says in an accusatory tone.

Let it be said that Barry was, as the legends depicted, a petty asshole. “Well we can hide them from humans when we want to, so what came first, the wings or the ability to exist without them?” he asks.

Oliver grinds his teeth together and makes a frustrated noise while Tommy and Felicity snicker, both having thought he wouldn’t have had a response to that. “Just saying,” Barry sing songs, “my views might not be right, but my questioning things is not unnatural, existing in a world that you aren’t constantly questioning is what’s unnatural.”

*

Angels healed faster than the average human so it didn’t take Oliver long to recover, minus his wing, which would take longer to heal. Tommy had taken nicely to Felicity and the two were off doing something Barry, truthfully, didn’t care about. “How do you get your wings to look so… nice?” Oliver asks, wandering closer with some caution.

Barry’s wings twitch and he glances over his shoulder at them, “I take care of them. You don’t, which is why they look like green matted lumps,” he says.

“They don’t look that bad,” Oliver mumbles, ducking his head in embarrassment.

“Do so; honestly those poor things are an embarrassment. They need to be cleaned desperately, half those feathers have got to go, and they need some proper upkeep. Honestly, how do you expect them to work if you don’t take care of them?” he asks.

“They’re fine, well the one is broken but that isn’t my fault, but they’re ok otherwise,” Oliver says, wings twitching as a result of self-consciousness.

“Oliver they looks like matted blankets in a vague wing shape, you look like an idiot,” Barry says.

“Do not,” Oliver mumbles.

“Do so,” Barry chirps, “just accept it.”

“Well if you think they look so terrible fix them,” he says, giving Barry an irritated look and crossing him arms.

“Fine, let’s go fix those embarrassing lumps you call wings,” Barry says, happily rising to the challenge.

“Fine,” Oliver says, following Barry as he walks away.

*

Oliver regretted letting Barry groom his wings wholeheartedly. He thought maybe it would be cute or something but no, there was a giant pile of feathers beside him and Barry kept mumbling about how much his wings sucked. He _liked_ his wings and he didn’t think they were that bad, they certainly weren’t as nice as Barry’s but that didn’t make them bad.

“Would you stop mumbling about how crappy my wings are? It’s hurtful,” he says indignantly.

“If you took care of them they would be beautiful but no, you insist on keeping them in this sorry state,” Barry says, ripping yet another feather out.

“ _Ouch_ , would you stop that? I already have a broken wing I don’t need bald wings too,” he says, irritated.

“They aren’t bald though at this point they would be better off that way. Oh stop looking at me like that; these poor things are in a sorry state. Now stop moving around, you’re irritating your broken wing, oh for gods sakes this does not hurt that much Oliver,” Barry says.

“Don’t say God,” Oliver says, offended.

“He kicked me out of Heaven I can say whatever the hell I god damn want,” Barry says.

“Now you’re saying that just to annoy me,” Oliver mumbles at him.

“God,” Barry whispers and rips another feather out. Oliver jumps and silently curses Barry for torturing him like this.

“I hate you,” Oliver mumbles.

“Good. Your wings look better already, just wait until they’re shampooed,” he says, petting down the side of Oliver’s wing. The sensation is strange to say the least and Oliver glares at Barry over his shoulder, “what? Never had your wing pet? It’s nice, Felicity did it once and I never want to go back to the dark ages that existed before,” he says. Oliver had no clue what that meant but he knew that Barry was being overdramatic. It wasn’t _that_ nice. Barry pets down the side of his wing again and he leans into it, thinking that perhaps he judged too soon.

“That is actually kind of nice,” Oliver says somewhat grudgingly.

“Right?” Barry says, pulling another feather out.

“Oh I am going to _murder_ you, but I’ll wait until you’re done so I can do it with nice wings,” Oliver growls at him. Barry laughs and pulls another feather out because he wanted to watch the world burn.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I FINALLY got around to finishing this off. I have like 3 other things started so I figured I should probs finish a few things up before working through everything else so. Here you go. I also wrote this considerably tired so let me know if there are any errors because there is bound to be at least a dozen D:

The devil doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you’ve ever wished for.

Tucker Max

Tommy and Oliver were adorably unadapt to… everything. Felicity and Barry watch as they two of them desperately try to figure out a cat that was particularly enthusiastic about being pet, but only in a certain way. Tommy seemed to like the animal immensely and Oliver was not fond, “do you think that cat’s self-indulgence counts if it’s a cat?” Oliver asks as the cat head butts his hand for more attention.

Tommy looks horribly offended and he scoops the cat up, “no! How could something so cute sin?” he says. Felicity and Barry exchange a look and snicker as Oliver squints, not following Tommy’s admittedly flawed logic.

“I don’t think being attractive exempts you from sin, Tommy, Barry’s cute and he’s a walking sin. Like several sins all at once,” he says.

“This is a cat, it’s got base knowledge, it can’t help it, that’s just how God made it,” Tommy says, making excuses for the animal.

“I think it’s selfish,” Oliver says, glaring at the cat.

“That doesn’t even make sense, Oliver, cats don’t have the mental capacity to be selfish, they’re just cats. You just don’t like them because you’re a backwards savage who doesn’t enjoy petting something that has hair softer than an angel’s,” Tommy says, sticking his nose in the air.

Oliver makes an offended noise, scoffing at Tommy. “I am not a backwards savage and that cat does not have softer hair than angels! We’re the most perfect ones, there is no way it’s hair is better than mine,” he says, irritated that Tommy would even suggest such a thing.

“Are so,” Tommy says, “and the cat _does_ have softer hair than us. Clearly that makes it a superior creature.”

“It does not! Cats bite,” Oliver says, frowning at said cat that had bit him only a few minutes before.

“So do those puppies you liked so much,” Tommy says, “and they also liked attention so you can’t claim cats are bad because of those things.” Well, at least the argument was solid if underdeveloped.

“They were young, they didn’t know any better,” Oliver says, defending the puppies terribly.

“Puppies are dumb,” Tommy says indignantly.

Oliver looks so offended Barry half expected him to smack Tommy. “I have… you… puppies are glorious creatures and God did something right there! They should inherit the earth and all the cats and people can go to Hell,” he says, crossing his arms.

“Oliver, _we’re_ in Hell and we kind of like it here. And puppies are so dumb; they ran into so many walls. The _same_ walls, Oliver, they clearly have no idea how to use their brains,” Tommy says, scratching the cat’s head.

“The puppies were excited! They liked us! Cats are cold emotionless creatures who will probably eat you when you die,” he says, suspiciously eyeing the cat.

“The puppies were stupid and clumsy and this cat is suave, and knows how to play it cool. I can appreciate that,” Tommy says.

Felicity snorts, “oh my god, I can’t believe they’re fighting over cats and dogs,” she says.

“Personally I rather like cats,” Barry says, “they know their worth and demand you treat them with respect. Dogs drool on everything and their tails knock everything over.”

“They’re just excited; you can’t blame them for loving you!” Felicity says, offended.

“I can and I will,” Barry says, sure of himself.

“You’re the literal devil,” Felicity says, not quite realizing what she said until after she said it.

“Well, yes, I am indeed the literal devil,” Barry says, grinning as Felicity rolls her eyes at him fondly.

*

Oliver sits beside him and looks at him for a moment before reaching out slowly, giving him enough time to move if he felt like it, and brushes his fingers across his wings. “How do you keep them so soft?” he asks. His own wings looked far better than they had when Barry had first groomed them, Tommy was jealous even if he refused to admit it out loud for fear of repercussion, but they weren’t as pretty as Barry’s. They probably never would be, he was the first, the most perfect, the divine almost. Oliver was a reproduction of the model that was used to make him, and he’d never be as perfect, not when God created a being so perfect he demanded equality. That simply wouldn’t do and so the rest of the angels were ‘defective’ in some way.

He might have been the best design, but he clearly wasn’t the only one who would realize their worth at some point. It was his opinion that ever angel would learn eventually, even those that were particularly resistant. When enough people began to rebel against the system even those who were invested began to question it, even if they weren’t asking the right questions, coming to the right conclusions. Questioning on any level was resistance enough, but asking the _right_ questions is what started a revolution. “I have practice keeping them clean, plus they’re just prettier to begin with,” he says, grinning.

Oliver rolls his eyes, “they are not, I like green better than red, yellow, and white. Your wings sort or remind me of fire, mine are calm, and stealthy. I’d blend into the trees and everyone would know where you were, so much for the perfect design,” he says, tugging on a feather.

He smacks Oliver’s hand away, “you leave my beautifully groomed feathers alone! They have done nothing to be victimized. I rather think I was the perfect design, but you’re entitled to your opinion, you are right about blending,” he says. That wasn’t something that was ever important for him though, he had been designed to be a leader, to stand out, to have _presence_. Oliver was made to fight; the designs differed because their functions did. “At least your wings don’t look like matted green lumps anymore though. The green looks so much prettier when you can actually see it,” he says. It was a stunning colour really and he wasn’t generally fond of green.

“Thank you,” Oliver says, ducking his head, “do you actually mean that?” he asks.

“I’ve already told you I have little purpose for lies, at least not outright. I gain nothing from telling you that you’re wings are a stunning shade of green. I’d be jealous if mine weren’t better, Tommy is jealous though blue is an awful color, he should be jealous of your wings,” he says. Especially the shade of blue Tommy’s wings were, or maybe that was just the lack of maintenance.

“Blue isn’t that bad,” Oliver says and Barry gives him a look, “well, maybe not that weird blue Tommy’s wings are. But bright blue is pretty even if it isn’t functional, like your wings,” he says, brushing his fingers over the feathers. It was a pleasant feeling and he rather enjoyed it. “Tommy has crappy wings because he likes cats, but I don’t think he’d jealous of mine,” Oliver says.

“Trust me, Oliver, I can sense jealousy, it’s supposed to be a sin, remember? He’s jealous, he just won’t admit it. And I like cats too, wonderful creatures,” he says. They were so soft too.

“This is why God doesn’t love you anymore,” Oliver says and Barry bursts out laughing.

“God doesn’t love me because I don’t love him, not because I like cats. I like their self-sufficiency and spunk,” he says. They were fun to play with, and after Felicity showed him that laser pointer trick he had decided they were even better entertainment than he had initially assumed. Plus they were ruthless little things; he always enjoyed an animal that had both a sense of style and strong self-preservation.

“I think they’re cruel and they bite too much. I guess they look cute but that’s to mask that they’re evil,” Oliver says, wrinkling his nose, “puppies are far more superior.”

“Cats and I have that in common, masking our evil with cuteness, though I can assure you my biting is a far more pleasurable experience,” he says and Oliver frowns at him. Sex joke, straight over his head. “Puppies are cute but they are far too enthusiastic for me, they always seem happy to have your attention no matter how you treat them. Its sad, really,” he says. Though puppies were fun to run around with, they had an abundance of energy and unlike kittens they wouldn’t fall asleep mid run. At least not usually.

“I like that puppies are enthusiastic, it shows loyalty. Cats don’t care, why have an animal that only cares when convenient?” he asks.

“Why have a pet that assumes you must be its whole life and never develops any of their own hobbies?” he asks back, raising an eyebrow.

Oliver looks so done with this argument, “no wonder you got booted out of Heaven, you are far more trouble than you’re worth.”

“You don’t believe that,” Barry says and somewhat ironically Oliver resembles a kicked puppy.

“No, but I’d like to,” he mumbles begrudgingly.

“Nothing that requires little effort is every really much of a reward, the challenge is what makes something worth it. I assure you, Oliver, I am a reward worth indulging in,” he says and grins. He was sure Felicity would agree, she did rather like her position here.

“Rather arrogant, don’t you think, to think you’re something worth winning?” Oliver asks, tilting his head to the side.

“No. Self-love is revolutionary, Oliver, far more than loving someone else could ever be, you mistake confidence for arrogance. And I don’t think I’m worth _winning_ , I think I’m worth _indulging in_. I am not an accomplishment people get to display; I am a person who participates in whatever reward you’ve earned. That doesn’t mean your reward will be a good one,” he says. He’s dabbled plenty in revenge, petty or no, though petty revenge always seemed to be the best revenge. There was something distinctly pleasing about doing something that required a small amount of effort and resulted in maximum damage, especially if there was no actual harm done. It showed creativity.

“Doesn’t ‘reward’ imply something good?” Oliver asks, frowning.

“Reward implies ‘compensation’ and compensation is neither good nor bad, it’s fitting. So no, it does not necessarily imply you’re getting something pleasant if you get a reward,” he says.

“Could you indulge me in a reward of not asking questions for at least a few hours?” Oliver asks, offering him a small smile.

“What do I get out of it?” he asks and Oliver goes back to looking  grumpy.

“You can groom my wings again,” he says and Barry snorts.

“My reward is making sure _your_ wings look pleasant?” he asks, laughing. He was curious to see what reason Oliver had for that to be his choice in prize.

“You don’t do anything you don’t genuinely enjoy doing, and you certainly never volunteer to do something you don’t enjoy. You can admit it, you know, missing the angels, the connections. We all have them, even if we aren’t supposed to,” Oliver says. The comment hits a little too close to home but he’s had a long time to perfect looking like he was unaffected by something.

“Fine,” he says, “but only because I do genuinely enjoy wing grooming. What shampoo do you want me to use?” he asks.

“I thought we were done with the questions,” Oliver says, giving him a look.

“Are you going to answer the question?”

“You are absolutely hopeless,” Oliver tells him.

“I’ve accepted that. You think Tommy would let me groom his wings?”

But who prays for Satan? Who in eighteen centuries has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it the most?   
Mark Twain

                                  


End file.
